


Reunion

by olliolli_oxenfree



Series: dapolyweek [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Circle of Magi, Dragon Age Quest: Broken Circle, F/M, Kinloch Hold, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 07:42:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8393005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olliolli_oxenfree/pseuds/olliolli_oxenfree
Summary: Day three of DA Poly Week:Now we see blood!Caedan Amell returns to the Circle.





	

_Love_ wasn’t something mages allowed themselves. Loyalty was. Even though he, Jowan, and Surana had drifted apart as companions when they left their early adult years behind, it hadn’t for an instant crossed any of their minds to stop being friends. Physical affection in the Circle was...it had to be different, from what little he still remembered of Kirkwall. Kinloch Hold was a far cry from the Gallows in that respect, anyway. The apprentice quarters were too tightly packed for anyone to be leery of such nearness. Just because they were no longer fucking didn’t mean they’d stopped piling on top of one another while they studied or kept themselves from sleeping in the same bed. Not that they’d abandoned fucking altogether, either. It was easier by far when the fancy overtook them to go find a friend.

Caedan hoped he was a better friend than he was an obedient mage. A strict follower of the Circle’s tenets would have run off to the First Enchanter or, Maker forbid, the Knight-Commander at the first sign of anything Jowan had tried to pull. He likely lost a few points in the _good friend_ category when he pushed Surana in a closet and locked the door when she bristled at Jowan’s plan, but such were the risks one took when one was still reeling from the Harrowing.

“It’s all well and good for _you_ ,” Jowan muttered. “Senior Enchanter Wynne’s been mentoring Surana since the Chantry brought her here, and First Enchanter Irving took a shine to you.” While the First Enchanter never formally took on an apprentice as a student, that hadn’t stopped Irving from inviting Caedan into his study for extra lessons. Now that his Harrowing was passed and he was a mage of the Circle, it might be made official.

He never counted on Jowan practicing _blood magic_.

Thank the Maker for Duncan.

Grey Wardens weren’t spoken of in the Circle often, but some mages at least knew what they were. The fact he had to chance to meet one made him nearly as giddy as passing his Harrowing had. He practically jumped at Duncan’s offer to let him join.

He could leave the Circle.

_He could leave the Circle._

He should have known it was too good to be true. Now Duncan was gone, and Caedan had to go back.

Alistair approached him the night before they reached the docks of Lake Calenhad. He’d been irritable all day, unable to keep still even for another of Leliana’s cooking lessons. Magic crackled in his fingers as he paced between his tent and the fire. If it weren’t for the rumors they’d overheard in the last village, he would have saved going to the Circle until they were certain they needed mages. Maybe, say, _after_ they had dealt with the Archdemon.

“It’s not forever, you know,” Alistair stilled him with a hand on his shoulder. “Just in long enough to wave the treaties around and get their help.”

Caedan scoffed. “If it’s anything like the fiasco with the elves, I doubt it will be that simple.”

The grip on his shoulder tightened. “You’re not staying there. Even if I have to carry you out myself.” Caedan still wasn’t sure what constituted as appropriate between friends outside the Circle. Instead of the hug he would have given another mage, he settled for clasping his hand over Alistair’s.

His trepidation turned to dread when they were refused passage across the lake.

“Fine, fine!” the Templar finally caved, “But you only get one trip, and the boat won't fit all of you!”

Caedan looked up at the tower. Up, and up, and up. It looked no less imposing than it had when he and his phylactery first arrived. More so, if possible. “Did you mean what you said?” he asked Alistair in a low tone. “About carrying me out?”

Alistair nodded, no hint of his usual humor in his face. “You’re a Warden. They’re not taking you from me, too.”

He picked Alistair and Sten, and was deciding between Leliana or Zevran when Morrigan took the choice from him. “You _want_ to go?”

“I wish to see for myself what becomes of mages who submit themselves to the Chantry.”

He took a moment to consider. All her skill and power, unchecked and unrestrained by the Circle’s teaching… He loathed to give up having it by his side. Still, it would mean taking her _into_ the Circle. “You’d be seen as an apostate. An illegal mage.”

“And what meaning does that word hold? _I_ have certainly never considered myself such.”

If it weren’t for the Templar nearby he would kiss her. Really, that was what decided it. Templars trying to deal with _Morrigan_.

“Be good,” he told Thalsian. The dog _whuffed_ and bumped his head against Caedan’s stomach. The Templar received a growl.

His bravado quelled when he was expected to board the rowboat. A gentle wave rocked it against the dock, and nausea rolled through him. Alistair stepped ahead, standing in the middle and tilting it a few times with his weight despite the Templar’s frantic objections. “Sten _might_ be pushing it,” he grinned as he held out his hand, “but if it breaks we could all just swim over on his back.” Caedan held his hand tight enough to hide the shaking as he climbed in. Alistair sat next to him, keeping on a one-sided conversation during the voyage. Caedan squeezed his eyes shut, head resting on steepled fingers as they crossed.

He was expecting bad, not _Rite of Annulment_.

Rage overrode caution. “Did you even _try?_ ” he screamed at Greagoir. The Knight-Commander avoided his gaze, and as stunning as that was the realization of what it meant dropped like a pit in Caedan’s stomach. The Templars _hadn’t_ tried. Everyone was locked in with demons and abominations and Maker knew what else. The Tranquil, the apprentices, everyone…

Caedan blasted through anything foolish enough to stand in his way. The weakness in the Veil practically made his magic bypass his staff. He abhorred the Circle with every fiber of his being, but for better or worse that didn’t change the fact that these walls had been his home for twelve years of his life. Circle mages were a family born of necessity, and family didn’t turn on family when the only other option was the Templar Order.

“ _Wynne?_ ” he gasped when they found the mages, “I thought— Ostagar—!”

“We survived, thank goodness,” she looked just as shocked to see him.

“What’s happened?”

“This is Uldred’s doing.”

“ _Uldred—?_ ”

“ _You!_ ”

Caedan pivoted. If it weren’t for all the fighting he’d done since becoming a Warden, he couldn’t have blocked Surana’s spell.

Shit. _Surana._

“Do you have _any idea_ how long I was in that closet?” she demanded, a ball of fury that barely came up to his chest and made him fear for his life, “And when I’m finally let out _Jowan’s a blood mage_ and _you’re_ an apostate—”

“A Warden.”

“A _Warden_ ,” Surana spat. “When everyone comes back from Ostagar the Wardens are _dead_ and that same evening I’m dragged off to the Harrowing Chamber—!”

“Congratulations?”

Wynne stepped between them before Surana threw herself at him. “That is enough. _Both_ of you. Amell, someone had to let you back in. Where are the Templars?”

“They—! They…” Reality crushed down on him. “They’ve called for the Rite of Annulment, Senior Enchanter,” and suddenly he was an apprentice new to the Circle, terrified of powers above and in him he had no hope of understanding. “What do we do?”

A horrified silence fell over the mages.

Surana laughed weakly. “Annulment... ”

Wynne drew their attention with a brisk clap of her hands. “If we were truly beyond hope, Amell could not have come to us. We must stop Uldred and his followers, before any more lives are lost. I will go with Amell. Petra, keep the apprentices guarded. I realize there is danger of the Templars getting in, but—”

“They won’t.”

Surana turned, gathered energy in the palm of her hand, and made it _lift_. The floor shuddered, and a wall of stone burst from the ground to cover the door.

“I’ll stay, too,” Alistair offered. “Having a Warden with them will have to count for _something_.”

Caedan paused. It had never really occurred to him beyond their first meeting that Alistair had gone through the training to be a knight. “Hurry it up, Amell,” Surana ordered.

Alright then.

They continued climbing their way through the tower, ensuring the safety of the Tranquil and the few scattered mages they found. Wynne’s sharp gaze made him cave and save the one or two Templars they ran across, too. “Do we have to?” he asked after helping the First Enchanter out of the Harrowing Chamber as Irving and Wynne discussed how to best the break the barrier surrounding Cullen.

“Amell.” He half expected Irving to give him lines.

“ _Stay back!_ ” Cullen scrabbled with his sword when the barrier dropped.

Morrigan scoffed. “Is the boy so helpless he cannot know when the Fade ends and our world begins? Leave him here, if he insists on refusing our help.”

“Come, young man,” Irving instructed. “The Knight-Commander will be anxious to see you whole.”

Alistair strode forward to meet them when they reached the last floor. “You took _hours_. What—?”

“Later,” Caedan promised in an undertone. He crossed to Surana, wrapping an arm around her waist and blocking her from Cullen’s view. Years had passed and nothing had yet come of it, but his habits died hard.

Caedan let the First Enchanter deal with Greagoir. Surana pressed two fingers to the crook of his elbow in farewell. After a few moments he followed her. “What _did_ happen with Jowan?”

He shrugged helplessly. “He’s a blood mage.”

“That damn fool,” she whispered. “Have you…?”

“...No.”

Surana held her arms across her middle. “So he might be dead, too.”

A Jowan-sized anguish spread within him. “...I’m a Warden,” he managed a bleak version of the grin he was going for. “I made it.” The smile she gave him was a little stronger.

“That, or these are the most sadistic demons I’ve ever encountered.”

“We passed our Harrowings. No demons.”

“No demons.”

Looked like everyone was ready to go. “Come with us.”

Surana studied his face. What was different, he wondered, between the mage who had woken from his Harrowing and the Warden trying to rouse Ferelden? “No.” It was the saddest sounding word he’d ever heard from her. “Wynne’s going with you. Irving will need someone here to help him. How does that sound? Trade your mentor for mine.”

“Don’t let his grin fool you,” Caedan warned, “he’s a taskmaster if I ever saw one.”

She _almost_ laughed. “He deals with the Knight-Commander. He has to be.”

Leaving pained him this time. It was nearly too much to watch Surana’s half-smile disappear. He was abandoning her, abandoning everyone he’d known over the past twelve years, to defend themselves against the Templars and try to rebuild in a broken Circle.

“There now,” Wynne turned to him once they were across the lake and she’d been introduced to the rest of the group at the inn. “If you are willing to sate my curiosity, how _did_ you two survive Ostagar?”

_A legend._ Caedan held the quip. “Long story,” he said instead. He told it to her as they wended their way south to Redcliffe. Wynne—she insisted he drop the title of Senior Enchanter and he'd suddenly never wanted to call her anything but—returned the favor by telling him of what transpired in the Circle.

“There was not much of a difference,” she admitted, “until Uldred staged his coup.” What she lacked in news, she made up in observation. No matter how personal.

He laughed at her assumption the arrangement he and Morrigan had was anything beyond physical. “It’s just _sex_ , Wynne. I know better.” Better than to think anything good would come of developing feelings that faded over time. Better than to assume she would stay beyond their lofty goal and vague plans of _kill an Archdemon, somehow_. Better than to hope a mage might have anything in this world worth hanging on to.

But Morrigan was observant as well, and she knew the dreams that woke him had become less about darkspawn and more about Tranquility. “For you,” she said when she placed a ring in his hand. “Since you seem to fear the Chantry still, something I can use to track you whatever your location.” An enchantment surged through the ring, powerful and more ancient than anything he had yet encountered.

“Who made this?”

“‘Twas my mother. She used the ring to know my location, and now I may do the same for you.”

The churning energy slowed when he slipped it on, stilled but for the force that pulsed with each beat of his heart.

“And there you are. Do tell me if you wish to get rid of it. I would loathe to lose such a valuable object.”

Around her, Caedan didn’t curb his tongue. “Would that be me or the ring?”


End file.
